


Of accidental truths and broken dryers

by monstermasks



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Awkwardness, Dex being an old man, Feels, LAXbros, M/M, Soft Hockey Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:38:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermasks/pseuds/monstermasks
Summary: “Only you, Dex you absolute crazy person, only you would have this problem. God, I love you.”Nursey says something he shouldn't.And then he says something he should.





	Of accidental truths and broken dryers

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing belongs to me except this head cannon because 'old-man' Dex is my favourite Dex and, well ok, I love every version of Nursey.  
> Characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu, who I would very much like to be.

“-and then he goes, ‘Oh jeez brah, like I thought it was probs not a hella sick idea but, like, I _totes_ didn’t know it would get all explody like that!’”

Derek is laughing so hard he thinks he might be in danger of rupturing something. He’s not sure if he’s ever laughed this hard, not sure if people are physically capable of it, and though ‘laughing at my dumb roommate’ might be an embarrassing way to die, he doesn’t think it can be helped at this point. He’s not alone in this predicament; ever since Dex stomped into the Haus twenty minutes ago and began his old-man rant about the LAX bros, the current inhabitants of the Haus have been in stitches. Holster and Ransom are holding one another up, shaking; Lardo has been reduced to an undignified series of hiccups; Bitty has developed silent, painful-looking paroxysms; and Chowder is literally slapping the floor, howling.

“-so in the end I go, ‘Look imbecile, you’ve decimated this poor bit of machinery down to a molecular level, there’s bits of it embedded in the wall over there because you thought it would be hilarious to put a bunch of bricks in a dryer. Of course I can’t fucking fix it, nobody could fix it, _God himself_ could not save this pile of scrap metal and douchery. Buy another one, asshole, and don’t put any fucking construction materials in it.” Dex sucks in some much-needed oxygen and continues. “In conclusion, ffffffuck the LAX bros.”

Apparently exhausted by the sheer breadth and depth of his rage, Dex slumps back onto the Gross Green Couch with an emphatic ‘oomph’. The next few minutes are silent except for the wheezing sounds of college athletes (and Lardo, who is clearly tougher than all of them combined) fighting off an early expiration due to overdose of mirth. Just as they’re starting to get a handle on their lung capacity, Bitty gasps, “Scrap metal and douchery!” and sets them all off again.

“Well,” Dex admits, starting to look a little sheepish, “That was probably a little harsh but honestly, who puts bricks in a perfectly good dryer?”

“’A perfectly good dryer’?” Derek repeats breathlessly, unable to believe this adorable dork of a boy. He’s not really thinking, still stuck on the image of Dex ranting at a LAX bro, so the next sentence sort of falls out of his mouth without so much as a ‘by your leave’ from his brain. “Only you, Dex you absolute crazy person, only you would have this problem. God, I love you.”

Immediately Derek’s laughter problem is solved. In fact, he may never laugh again. Goddam his stupid, honest, big, dumb, _poet brain._ Desperately he starts scrambling for damage control tactics; he tells Chowder he loves him like fifty times a week, this is pretty much the same thing, right? Sure, he doesn’t say it like his heart has crawled up his throat and is spilling from his lips and, ok, it probably doesn’t sound a lot like his words are drenched in forevers when he says them to C, but maybe nobody noticed?

A glance around the room kills this hope almost before it can form. _Everybody_ is staring at him in various degrees of shock (except for Chowder, who looks a little knowing and a lot sad, which is not something Derek can deal with right now).

And then there is small, helpless-sounding noise from the corner of the room and Derek finds his eyes unwilling dragged to the very person he’d doesn’t want to see right now. Dex looks absolutely _floored_ , all the colour drained from his face so that his freckles pop, and his eyes look enormous, dark and guarded and fixed on Derek.

Derek reaches for his Andover-smile, drapes his paper-thin façade of chill about himself and shrugs, all nonchalant ease. “What? ‘Course I do, Dexy. You told a LAX bro he was an imbecile to his face. Hell, if you slapped him I might’ve kissed you.” He says and immediately know that all the rich people charm in the world can’t help him when his own fucking words betray him. They always seem to, words. They reach for truths even when they shouldn’t, especially when they shouldn’t. Derek knows that when he said ‘kissed you’ he was aiming for casual, trying to channel a bit of Holster-style, bro affection, and skipped straight over that and hit longing instead. “I mean-“

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, how to fix this. What he knows is that he needs to leave. “Anyway bros, I gotta bounce.”

He’s pretty fast getting up and heading for the door. He’s a college-level athlete with a fire lit under his ass so, yeah, pretty fast.

Dex is faster.

“Nursey, what did you mean?” Dex’s hand reaches out, clutches at Derek’s arm like he could hold him here with just that grounding touch. He probably could. His eyes look frantic, dark, darker than he’s ever seen them. You could get lost in eyes like that… Derek averts his gaze.

“What? Nothing man, I told-“

“ _Derek,_ what did you mean?” And Derek, well, he just doesn’t have the strength to fight this anymore. Not when Dex says his name like that, hell, Derek would offer up the whole world if Dex said his name just like that. The truth seems so minor in comparison. And so much more likely to hurt.

Derek closes his eyes and breathes out, surrenders. Let’s go of the Andover-smile, the rich people charm, his not-quite-omnipresent ‘chill’. He opens his eyes and lets himself get lost in Dex’s, just like he knew he would.

“You know what I meant,” Derek replies, helpless and hopeless with it.

“No, no I _don’t_. I thought maybe, but _you_ couldn’t- not, not with me. You have to tell me, Nurse.” Dex is trembling all over, fine tremors that vibrate across his freckled skin like tiny earthquakes. His fingers slip down Derek’s arm, curl into his palm. Derek suddenly realises how close they’re standing, how Dex can’t seem to draw in a full breath, and thinks, ‘ _maybe_ ’.

“You’re the poet, Nurse,” Dex is almost begging. “You have to _tell me_.”

So Derek does.

“You’re so goddam annoying, Dex.” He ignores the hurt sound the Dex makes because he has officially reached the limit of things he can deal with right now. “You’re so stubborn and so wrong about _everything_ , all the time!” Dex starts to loosen his fingers, starts to turn away, but Derek holds him fast; he’s not done yet. “And I’d rather be right here, arguing with you about all of the things that I’m annoying and stubborn and wrong about than anywhere else in the world. I’d-“ he falters suddenly, aware all over again of the fragile moment stretching between them, the way his heart could be collateral here.

“Keep going,” Dex whispers and Derek reaches for one last scrap of courage, reaches for the right words. For true words.

“I’d tie all of my tomorrows to yours, if you let me.” He finds the words waiting behind his teeth like they'd always been there and sighs them out like they’re a release (maybe they are), and then watches in amazement as Dex smiles, a small, soft thing. Hope is an expanding balloon in his chest; ‘ _maybe’, ‘maybe’, ‘maybe’._

“All of our tomorrows, huh Nursey? That’s a real long time,” Dex rests his forehead against Derek’s, pulls him closer with his free arm, keeps their fingers linked. The balloon grows and grows and grows.

“Good thing we’ve got so much arguing to do then, isn’t it?” Their noses brush as Dex laughs, flushed and happy and suspiciously shiny-eyed. Derek can’t move, can’t think, can’t quite believe this is happening. His whole being is focussed on Dex’s mouth which is _right there-_

(Behind them, unnoticed, Ransom and Holster simultaneously open their mouths and Chowder hisses, “If either of you mess up this very important first kiss I will personally ruin every best-friend ‘not-a-date’ you ever have for the _rest of your lives._ ” He is no less terrifying for the way he is openly weeping with happiness. He may actually be more so).

(The kiss goes uninterrupted).


End file.
